Illusions of Grandeur
by englandwouldfalljohn
Summary: When Draco's marriage falls apart, he finds himself confiding in an unexpected companion. While this seems like a gift being handed over on a silver platter, it may be the final straw, causing his tenuous grasp on sanity to unravel. Before he can risk a chance on the future, he will be confronted with the demons of his past. Drarry WIP, TW: Alcoholism/Abuse/Past Non-con/Language


As the steam on the platform thickened enough to obscure even the train itself, Harry finally stopped waving and turned, resigned, toward a hot, lonely September day in London. A flash of white-blond at the corner of his eye drew his attention, and his brow furrowed at the sight. Something was off with those two. Not that either of them had ever been the cuddly type, far from it, but the way she kissed him now – lips drawn tight, barely grazing the side of his face – and then rapidly disappeared back into the station without so much as a final wave…

He failed to notice himself staring until he heard the all too familiar, "What are you looking at, Potter?" There was no longer a threat in the question; all traces of venom had long since passed. Yet something about that particular turn of phrase still sent an odd shiver down Harry's spine.

"Nothing. Sorry. Er… how've you been?"

Draco eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds, then fell into step beside him as they casually made their way off the Hogwarts platform and across the main lobby of Kings' Cross.

"Fine. Why shouldn't I be?"

"No reason," Harry raised his hands defensively. Yeah, something was definitely off. "So, um… fancy a tea, then? Leaky Cauldron?"

Draco snorted.

"Ok, well then maybe another – "

A taxi pulled up, and to Harry's surprise, Draco pulled open the door. He hadn't expected a _Malfoy_ to employ muggle transportation, if only on principle. He started at the impatient noise arising from Draco's throat, just now realizing that the door was still being held.

"Oh will you get in already, Potter? As if I've got nothing better to do."

Harry swallowed an amused smile. _Well_ , he thought, _apparently you haven't…_

* * *

The cool, dim interior of the pub was a welcome relief from the blistering late-summer city streets. While Harry's eyes roamed over the unusually full crowd – mostly Hogwarts parents taking advantage of a day in town – Draco weaved with deliberate swiftness toward a tiny table at the back.

"So, why are we doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Don't be obtuse. It was your idea, Potter. Why are we here having a drink before noon?"

"I… um… suggested tea," Harry responded dumbly.

"Suit yourself," Draco said, shouting their order over the din.

They sat in silence until a small pot of earl grey and a glass of whiskey on the rocks appeared, the latter being half-consumed before it could leave a drop of moisture on the table.

"Right, so… again. Why am I here?"

"Well, I dunno, I…" Harry stuttered, then paused as he became aware of the icy blue eyes gazing back at him. Inquiring. Red-rimmed. Pleading not to be the one to have to say it. "Things with your… with Astoria. They're not very… is everything alright?"

Draco swallowed the rest of his drink in one go, signaled for another from the bar, and locked eyes on his unexpected confessor.

"No."

None of his own friends had asked, hinted, offered to listen. Perhaps they were too dull to notice what he thought had been obvious. Perhaps they were too narcissistic to take an interest. Or perhaps his years of intimidation had worn down their willingness to care.

"No," he repeated, this time addressing the table. "She's… we've separated. Over the summer. Thanks – " he nodded as his second whiskey arrived, " – divorce should be final before the winter holidays."

"Wow, that's… I'm sorry." Despite suspecting this was the case, Harry hadn't really expected to be confided in. It wasn't as though Draco was lacking for proper friends. "Is it… I mean, how bad is it?"

A small sip, and a heavy sigh. "It isn't exactly what I'd call 'amicable,' but it's clean enough, I suppose."

"That's something then, right? I know when Ginny and I – "

Draco's eyes flashed angrily. "Oh do spare me the details of your one yearly spat with your perfect little wife, will you? Classic Potter, always having to one-up the rest of us."

Harry continued, unruffled. "When we finalized the divorce, as painful as it was, there was also a tremendous sense of relief. For both of us."

Draco frowned into his glass. It had never occurred to him that Harry was alone at the station and shouldn't have been. "You," he began, not raising his head, "when did you…"

"Signed the papers end of May, before school term ended. Albus spent most of the summer with me, and he'll go to his mum's for the holidays. I've moved to a place I inherited here in the city, and as yet, we haven't needed formal custody arrangements to work it out."

"But why…?"

Harry grimaced. "The muggles call it 'irreconcilable differences,' which is a nice way of saying we just couldn't make it work. It wasn't one particular issue, in the end. You know how things were back when… well, back then. Ron and Hermione seem to have made a proper go of it, but Ginny and I… I suppose it was the circumstances more than anything else. We did our best, but it just wasn't meant to be."

Draco nodded, as if weighing this information against some other idea he'd been contemplating. When he finally spoke again after several minutes, there was a decisiveness in his tone that hadn't been there before.

"Potter."

"Yeah?"

"Your tea's gone cold."

And for some reason unknown even to himself, Harry laughed.

* * *

He stood staring down the twilit London road, impervious to the early autumn chill rustling the fabric of his cloak. For a quarter of an hour, he had poured over the contents of his not inconsiderable potions cupboard, his anxiety mounting as he searched in vain for inspiration, for the perfect combination of ingredients, for the resolve to stay away. In the end, it had been one single bottle that offered comfort, if not a solution: good old-fashioned tequila. At least there was one thing muggles got right.

Several swigs (gulps) later, and Draco found himself vacillating on the steps of number 12, Grimmauld Place, casting furtive glances over his shoulder in the orange glow of a September sunset.

 _Maybe this was a mistake. Yes. Yes, this was most definitely a mistake._ He had let himself be caught off-guard by his own emotions; there was a reason he usually avoided having any to begin with.

Two whiskeys and a personal confession had led to commiseration, surprisingly comfortable laughter, and a second meeting at the Leaky Cauldron a week later. At least that time, Harry had also traded in his tea, with its wholesome, judgmental overtones, for a proper drink. There had been less talk of divorce and soon-to-be-ex-wives, and despite himself, Draco had to admit that it'd been rather a good time.

And now for some reason he was standing here, staring up at Harry's door, undecided as to whether he should knock or flee the scene. True, he had been invited, but what exactly was he expecting to –

"Are you just going to stand there alone all night, or were you expecting me to serve you out here on the steps? Because that's not going to happen."

 _Damn._ _This looks bad. Ok, fine, decision made I suppose, time to_ –

"Come on, it's getting cold."

Draco trudged up the stairs, an embarrassed scowl clouding his pale features. "Potter," he nodded as he brushed past him through the doorway.

"Let me guess," Harry's eyes rolled, the unmistakable scent of Patron mixing with a carefully applied mask of expensive cologne, "you could use a drink…"

* * *

"That," Draco wept with laughter, "did not happen!"

"It did, I swear to you, it did," Harry responded pushing his hair off his forehead and leaning back in his chair at the long wooden table. Refilling both of their glasses from the third bottle of wine, he took a few deep breaths to steady himself before resuming the fishing expedition he'd begun a few weeks prior. Though he could scarcely call himself sober, Draco must've had at least twice as much, not counting the pre-gaming. _Why did he drink before coming over for drinks?_ _Nevermind, worry 'bout that later. Might not get another chance at the real questions._

"So level with me. Why the split?"

Blue irises attempted to fix him with a confused look, though the dilation of his pupils indicated that the Harry he saw wasn't entirely in focus.

"Shplit?" He slurred.

"You know, you and um… whatshername… Astoria?"

"Me and… oh. That. Well, like you said, it was never… what did you say?"

"Meant to be."

"Right. Yes. It was never meant to be."

"Yeah, ok, but why not?"

"Oh what's the difference? Not like it matters. Never mattered to him, anyway. Least he didn't live to see this, though he would've loved it I'm sure."

"Who?" Harry asked dumbly.

"Nothing's ever good enough. Nothing's allowed, nothing's… nothing. Can't associate with other houses, can't fail at the… quich… quidchh… the flying thing. Should've seen his face every term my grades were one step behind that mudblood."

"Hey – watch it. I don't care how drunk you are, don't you ever – "

"Yeah, yeah, old habits. Not… no 'ffence. Anyway, all I'm saying is, nothing I could be was good enough, but _that_ … least he was too damn busy with his power," the last word was spit out like poison as he slammed his glass onto the table, "to notice that about me. But she did. Took all these years, but finally she did. And that's that, then, innit? Left me. Can't blame her."

"But Draco," pale eyes flinched at hearing his name, "why did she leave? What actually happened?"

"Ugh, Potter…"

"Oh c'mon. If you can't tell me, who can you?"

"Mmm. Guess that's true. It's just, I've never… ok. I'll tell you this much. There was always someone else, before I met her. Someone… not… the same. As her. If you know what I mean."

Harry's head shook. "No, I don't know what you mean. Like, another woman? A girl at school? Like… Pansy?"

"Pansy?! No, god Potter, don't you know anything? Don't you ever pay attention?"

"Sorry," Harry responded contritely. "I think I don't. Pay attention. Anyway, that's what Ginny always – "

"Uggghhh nooo stop. Stop talking about _her_. You never even… did you ever even love her, anyway?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Liar. You didn't want her. You wanted that… that… Cho person."

At the mention of that name, Harry was instantly stunned into sobriety. "How did you know that?"

"Unlike _some people,_ I actually care what's happening around me."

"But why do you even remember that? I mean, you shouldn't… why would you care?"

"'Course I care. The great and mighty Harry Potter," he said, swirling the crimson contents of his glass and peering into it as if expecting to read the future.

"I'm not that great," Harry protested, uncertain of the turn this conversation had taken.

"No kidding. Don't even notice when someone is in love with you."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man gazing expectantly into his wine.

"What… do you mean Ginny, now? Before she and I got together? Or are you talking about some girl you were interested in before Astor – "

"Oh Merlin's beard, you twat! I'm gay!"

A very dim light began dawning in Harry's mind. "Wait… ok wait. If you're gay… but what's that to do with Cho? Or with me not knowing when someone is in love with me?"

Draco looked up then, an uncharacteristically sad expression dragging across his countenance. Scraping his chair against the floor, he stood unsteadily and made his way up the stairs.

"S'not important. Never was. Anyway. Gotta be going, then." His head turned rapidly, searching the entryway. "Where's my cloaknbroom?"

"Are you…" Harry ignored this last question, moving tentatively toward his guest, "d'you mean… me?"

"'Course I mean you, stupid spoiled… damn," he cursed, struggling to pull his cloak on properly. _This is why I never drink wine_. A hand reached out to straighten a bit of fabric by his collar, then rested firmly just below his clavicle. "What're you…"

More terrified than he'd been in ages, Harry leaned slightly upwards and pressed his lips against the soft, pale pink lines of Draco's mouth.

"Why are you…" the other man whispered against him.

"S'what you meant, isn't it? What you wanted?"

Draco nodded slowly, his mind too scrambled to attempt further speech. Their chests were rising and falling in time, and Harry was grateful that Draco hadn't inherited the forbidding Malfoy height as he captured that beautiful, poisonous mouth once more, this time sliding his tongue gently between eagerly parting lips, pinning Draco to the door with increasing force. He was surprised at his own reaction to the tentative moans escaping the other man's throat, and he hoped vaguely that Draco wouldn't be able to feel said reaction pushing against his right thigh.

"Fuck, Draco…" Harry let slip. Draco's eyes flew open at that. He shoved Harry away with one hand, grasped the handle of his broom with the other, and whipped open the door, disappearing into the darkness without uttering a single word.


End file.
